CHAPTER 22
A bright blanket of cloud hung over the city, somewhat lessening winter's sharp touch on the still air. Isak could hear the city beyond the walls as people took advantage of a lull in the bitter weather. Covered bridges and walkways kept the city alive in the depth of winter. Though there was little fresh food to be found on the stalls, the cold stores beneath the city meant the handful of enclosed markets still did a brisk trade. The crisp afternoon light would not last long and then the city would return to hibernation.
Isak, sprawled on the stone stair, let his practice blade clatter on to the bottom step and stared longingly over at Eolis. The weapon hung in its scabbard from a post nearby. Isak knew he was safe, but he just couldn't shake the need to have the sword at hand. His feelings were rather more ambiguous about his armour, left under guard in the Duke's Chapel. Siulents reeked of the last king, both his sorcery and his mind, and since the battle Isak had never quite been comfortable in it. Eolis was different: the sword was an extension of his body, the edge to his anger more than its instrument.
As the Krann sat panting, a group of guardsmen nursed their bruises and laughed with Kerin. The Swordmaster leant on a blunt-tipped spear and tugged a fleece around his shoulder. The rest, Ghosts in full plate armour, removed their peaked steel helms as they also caught their breath. The winter air ached in their lungs, but it was worthwhile for the beating they'd given Isak. Most had fresh dents in their armour, but Isak had definitely come off worst, and they'd all enjoyed themselves immensely.
‘So, my Lord, you're finally learning some balance,' commented Vesna from the sidelines. The count had refrained from taking part, but a pair of fencing blades dangled from his fingers for when Isak was exhausted.
Vesna looked at Mihn, standing firmly between Eolis and the rest of the world, who inclined his head in agreement. The small man had interrupted the exercise twice to correct Isak's movements. Vesna was beginning to wonder what the others of Charr's 'bait' had been like. Each correction had presented Isak with the best range of available strokes – but as far as Vesna knew, Mihn had used no weapon but his staff…
Before he could pursue the thought, Tila trotted down the stair, giving Vesna a courteous nod before crouching next to Isak and quietly asking, 'Did you hear what happened last night?'
'You mean Count Vilan? A terrible shame that,' Isak replied in a lazy drawl, leaning back against the stone steps. His chest seemed to heave up even further as his breastplate was pushed up by the angle of the steps. Grunting slightly, Isak raised himself up and shifted it into a more comfortable position.
'How can you be so uncaring about it? A man died last night, on these very steps.'
'I know, but it was hardly surprising. He had been drinking heavily, and these steps are icy even during the day now.'
Tila narrowed her eyes. 'Is that all that happened then? You're acting very strange; was this something of Lesarl's doing? Oh Gods-'
'Hush,' urged Isak. 'This isn't something to be gossiping about, unless you want to help matters by encouraging the maids to gossip about how much Vilan drank last night. Let's just say this accident was convenient, but there must be no talk that it was anything but an accident.'
Tila's eyes widened for a moment. This was as close as she'd ever been to the blunt end of politics. Looking down at the steps she was standing on, she pulled her cloak tight about her body and checked the soldiers, but none were close enough to hear. 'Do you know why?'
'The count was a traitor,' Isak replied simply. 'A legacy of the Malich affair.'
'But then why not arrest him? There was no call to murder some' one, and to push him down these stairs? If he'd survived Vilan could have had the man prosecuted for attempted murder – that would bring the whole scandal down on to Lord Bahl.'
'I know. That's why I broke the bastard's neck before he fell.'
Tila's hand flew to her mouth. A tiny sound escaped her lips, the careless way Isak had said it shocking her as much as the admission
Itself. Isak sat up, hurriedly reaching for her arm, but she slapped him away. She swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to force the bile in her throat back down. She held up her hand to stop the Krann from speaking further.
'Vesna,' said Isak over his shoulder. 'Take Tila in, explain to her.'
Revulsion flooded her face and Isak felt a sudden pang of guilt. The count nodded to Isak and took Tila gently by the elbow, but she pushed Vesna away, muttering curtly that she could manage, and turned her back on the pair of them. The door slammed behind her. Isak's eyes stayed on the quivering oak for a moment and then he looked up at Vesna. The count shook his head and turned back down to the training field.
'She'll get over it – she's a delicate girl, that's all. Killing isn't a way of life for her; even soldiers tend to have an opinion on murder.'
'But- '
Vesna held up a hand and Isak let the sentence die unsaid. 'You two are close; she forgets, as I do, that you are a white-eye. It's hard to remember that you're different, and hard not to judge. Give her time to be angry, then I'll go and speak to her. She'll remember that she loves you by this evening.'
'Loves me?' The remark caught Isak by surprise, but Vesna only chuckled.
'Of course, my Lord, but only as a brother. I suspect you love her like a sister, you've just never known the feeling enough to give it a name. Certainly I hope – ' It was Vesna's turn to flounder now, blanching as he realised he could have been dangerously wrong. To his intense relief, he hadn't.
'Don't worry,' Isak said, 'I've seen you two together. It's actually a relief – one less concern in my life.'
'One less concern?' Vesna could not hide his incredulity, but Isak merely smiled and wagged a finger in admonishment.
‘Now you're forgetting I'm a white-eye again. Think about it, my
faithful bondsman: in less than a year my life has changed beyond recog-
nition. The Gods only know how many people are actually
'But are you not disappointed that-' Vesna looked up to the sky, wondering how to phrase it without sounding condescending.
'Perhaps a little, but lacking something I've never known? I don't think white-eyes are made for regrets. Anyway, enough of this. How are the preparations for our little jaunt to Narkang going?'
'Well enough, though of course there's been no time for the messenger to even get to King Emin. We'll be off within the week, I think. Two horses arrived this morning from Siul, fine beasts, both of them, or so the stablemaster tells me – the best he's seen in years, he claims. We'll go and see them once we're finished here. I've picked the escort, Tila's chaperone has presented her requirements-'
'Chaperone?'
Vesna laughed. 'Oh yes. You forget that Tila's father is an important man in the city. For her to travel to foreign parts in the company of soldiers… well, her mother is less than impressed, but I've informed Lady Introl that it is your specific command. I think she was mollified somewhat when I mentioned that Tila would be your political advisor in all negotiations with the Kingdom of Narkang and the Three Cities.'
'But is the chaperone to ward off the attentions of the uncivilised white-eye, or the notorious Count Vesna?' Isak smiled and sat up, tugging at the lead-coated armour with a slight groan. 'So how many are we going to be?'
'Well, an escort of thirty soldiers and two rangers to scout for us, you, me, Mihn, Lady Tila and the battle-axe who's going to carry Tila's make-up, and Carel. Thirty-eight in total.'
Isak lifted the shoulder plates over his head and tossed them to the ground. 'That's too many – we'll be too slow.'
